


Doing the Garden, Digging the Weeds

by Femininehygieneproducts



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: And models, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Modern AU, Paul the gardener, Ringo is a stylist, john and George are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femininehygieneproducts/pseuds/Femininehygieneproducts
Summary: John fancies Paul, the new gardener, and he’s pretty sure Paul fancies him back. As John came to realization about his newfound feelings for the hot gardener, his next mission flashed across his brain in bright red letters:Fuck Paul McCartney as soon as possible.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Doing the Garden, Digging the Weeds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Here’s a simple and fun fic I’ll be updating between YBD so y’all aren’t starved hehe. Please comment if you enjoyed!!

John yanked open the purple curtains to the large window that stood in his even larger room, dwelling on his intense hatred for that deep color he never liked. He wished for the curtains to be burgundy, but his father didn’t allow any changes to be made to the house that he didn’t approve of. Alfred, his father, were allowing John and kid brother George to stay in the expensive home while their modeling careers were paid for, so they weren’t granted the luxury of choosing what damn curtains they wanted. Usually slight irritation greeted John in the mornings when he caught sight of the hideous curtains, but there was something about this particular day that told him great frustration was to be anticipated. He couldn’t tell if it was the good kind or the bad kind. 

John groaned as he turned away from the curtains, George’s giggling could be heard echoing outside his door, the sound fading in and out, telling him that George must have been running up and down the corridor. John almost marched out into the hallway in just his underwear to snap at his childish brother, but remembered that a magazine would be arriving soon to conduct an interview, and he was to be wearing the designer robe sent to him by his agents. He figured that putting on the expensive garment could wait, but ended up throwing it over his shoulders anyway just to already have it on. The magazines were always so eager to get their interviews done that they often arrived early. When the silk was wrapped around his body, John stomped towards his door and slammed it open, right when George was sliding past the entrance. Ringo, their stylist, was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with folded arms as he watched George run. John frowned.

“Will you two keep the fuckin’ noise down!?”

George only whipped to face his brother, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “John, look! When I run, the back of my robe looks so-“

“I don’t care.” With that, John slammed the door. He was briefly reminded of all the times he was annoyed about being seen as the ‘mean’ brother by fans and the media, when really an assumption like that was not out of reach. John knew he could be snappy on a bad day, but God, his life could be so infuriating. It felt worse because he knew no one would take him seriously should he ever express his frustration, seeing that he was a rich man that had people bowing to his every whim. That was understandable. Still, no human was without struggle. And he felt that everyone should be allowed to express their troubles, even just a little.

He collapsed onto his bed with a sigh right when his bedroom door was opened. Another groan slipped past his lips when he recognized George, who climbed on top of his bed with a frown.

“What’s wrong, John?” George draped himself across his back and rested his chin on John’s shoulder.

“Nothing’s  _ wrong. _ I just woke up to you two screaming and running down the hallway like you were raised in a barn.”

“I wasn’t  _ screaming! _ ” George shot up to glare down at his brother.

“Okay, my bad,  _ cackling _ .”

George huffed, but it seemed he decided to keep the peace and lowered himself down on John’s back. “I’m sorry.”

John grumbled into his arm.

“I’m actually sorry, John!” George bent over to kiss John’s cheek, making his brother screech and shove George off of him.

“EW!  _ GEORGE! _ ”

George fell back onto the bed with a laugh, clutching his stomach. John sneered at his brother before jumping on him, pinning him to the bed as he made his own attempt to kiss George on the lips. The two brothers wrestled, nearly rolling off the bed a couple times, even when Ringo entered. They continued as they didn’t see the stylist standing in the doorway, George screaming for John to get off of him. Ringo cleared his throat.

“Erm…” the stylist said once he had their attention. “The Pose magazine is here. Do you want me to send them up?”

The brothers stared at Ringo for a few seconds before George shoved John off of him, sending the man falling onto his back with a grunt.

“Yes.” Said George. “Send them up.”

  
  


-

  
  


There was nothing remarkable about the interview that took place in John’s bedroom. Well, save for the photographer that clearly had the eyes for John; adjusting him in ways that John could easily do himself, letting a hand linger a bit too long on John’s thighs, and overall taking photos of him when he wasn’t looking, forgetting George completely. A few weeks ago, John might have told the man to stay back so they can chat up and maybe even sleep together, but John’s been single and lonely for so long that his desperation to find someone was starting to dwindle and be replaced by bitterness. He couldn’t find it in himself to be flattered by the man’s slick advances, and was only disgusted.

“Oops.” John said when the man dropped his camera due to John snatching his arm out of his grasp. That was honestly his favorite part of the interview. Seeing the man’s smug smirk warp into heartbreak at the lens popping out of his camera. John had to lift a hand to cover his own smirk. He knew it was a pretty shrew thing to do, but the man was bothering him the whole time. He was practically asking for it.

When the magazine and its crew finally left, John stretched and made his way to his window, sitting gingerly on the sill as his eyes lowered onto the garden right beneath his room. He wanted to admire the flowers below but ended up screaming and jumping back instead at the sight of a strange man he’s never seen before. George came running into his room at the sound, Ringo having left after the magazine did. 

“What’s wrong, John?!”

“Who is  _ that!” _ John squeaked as he pointed out the window. George strode over, a deep crease in his brow, and peered out the window. He grinned and leaned back.

“Oh, that’s Paul!”

John scowled. “What the fuck is a  _ Paul? _ ”

“Our gardener, John! Sorry I hired him without telling you, but dad was complaining about the state, and I was tired of hearing him.”

John was barely listening to him as he reached for his glasses on his nightstand (his thick rimmed, square framed glasses that he  _ hated  _ wearing) before sitting them gingerly on his nose. He blinked rapidly as he adjusted to his newfound vision, the Gardener’s-  _ Paul’s- _ back coming into view. He looked young enough, which was good. John didn’t have to worry about another talkative old person who had easy access to his house. Dark hair, pale skin, and-

Paul turned around.

John pressed his glasses closer to his face as he shot forward in an attempt to get a better look. Paul reached a toned arm up to wipe dribbling sweat off his  _ gorgeous  _ face. He had a smooth yet sculpted jawline to  _ die _ for, plush pink lips that parted as a huff of exhaustion puffed from his mouth, and the largest, cutest eyes John has ever seen on a grown man. His body was nice too, lean muscles and broad shoulders.  _ Tall. _ John scooted further up the window sill in an attempt to get an even better look, but found that he could only see so much. That’s fine. Paul worked for  _ him _ . He could get a better look much later on.

“Yummy.” 

George snorted and slapped his shoulder. “Are you ogling the garden boy?!”

John hummed his affirmation as he continued to stare out the window, down at Paul. It looked like Paul was just finishing up in that area, placing his tools in his bag in a finalizing way. John really hoped that he wasn’t leaving after that. He needed to speak to that man. Yes, of course, John wanted to fuck him. But he wasn’t going to abuse his power to reach that goal or anything, so he hoped and prayed that Paul was into him. Paul stood straight and looked up, making direct eye contact with John, freezing. He gave a polite smile and nod, only to get continuously gawked at by John, who smirked. Paul gave a tight smile before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. John jumped off the windowsill, ripping off his glasses and darting out the room. George trailed after him.

“Where are you going??”

“Wherever Paul’s going.”

John paced down the hall and hurried down stairs, not even caring that George was following him again while asking questions he couldn’t hear. He had a faint idea of where Paul’s next move was, and he couldn’t help but feel that maybe it was a sign sent from a higher being. The sun room was a long trip away, but John got there eventually.

And sure enough, Paul was there. John didn’t think he would tend to the indoor succulents as well, but was glad he did. Not only due to the fact that John was too busy to look after them, but because he would have... _ easy _ access to Paul if he was indoors as well. George was about to open his mouth to say something but John whipped around to roughly shove him out the room.

“ _ Hey! _ ”

“Get  _ out! _ You are not ruining this for me!”

George grumbled and stomped away, and when John turned back around to continue stalking Paul, the man was already staring at John. John cursed to himself but managed a smile anyway, positioning himself against the wall in a feigned relaxed pose, the smile on his face turning into a coy grin. Moments like these was what seperated John the model from John the bloke; he could pose elegantly and appear enticing (hopefully) to Paul, who was his camera, and not have to worry about looking awkward or out of place. And it was all so effortless. 

John’s body must have had an effect on Paul, though, whose wide eyes raked over John in a not so subtle way.  _ Okay, Paul, _ thought John.  _ You’re making this too easy. _

Paul was the first to speak with a “Hello, there. Ah- John? Isn’t it?”

John couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him. He wasn’t trying to come off as cute in order to woo Paul, but was actually amused at his question. Paul chuckled along with him as he caught onto what John was laughing at. 

“I’m sorry.” Laughed Paul. “Of course you’re John. John Lennon. I was...I was just- just trying to start a conversation, ‘s all.”

John waved him off and pushed himself off the wall to walk closer. “Oh no you’re fine. It was adorable, really.” John didn’t miss the way Paul blushed at the compliment. He reached a hand out to Paul. “Paul, right? Paul…”

“McCartney.” Paul shook his hand firmly. “Paul James McCartney, originally James Paul McCartney- but everyone calls me Macca.”

John laughed again, much to Paul’s pleasure, who grinned widely at him. John took note of the strong grip Paul had on his hand and committed it to memory.

“Okay,  _ Macca. _ ” Paul gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go. John wanted to melt after having his hand groped, at least that was the choice of wording he wanted to use. He took his clammy hand and ran it down the front of his robe. He froze. God, he was still wearing the  _ bloody _ robe! Sure he wanted to gently suggest a relationship to Paul, but he wasn’t ready to let the man know he wanted to bone! Not  _ yet!  _

“ _ Shit! _ ”

Paul had busied himself with trimming the unruly leaves of one of the plants but startled at John’s swearing, his elbow bumping into the suspended pot which knocked some of the damp soil onto John’s expensive robe.

_ Balenciaga… _

It was Paul’s turn to swear. “ _ Fuck! _ ” His hands jumped out to swipe over John’s waist, dusting the wet soil off the robe, which thankfully fell off of the robe and onto the floor. John felt slight panic at the thought of possibly ruining the fabric, but was relieved when he didn’t notice a stain of any sort. He smiled up at Paul.

“Thank you, Paul.” But John’s genuine smile slowly faded when he noticed the way Paul’s hands lingered at his waist.

_ Oh… _

Paul’s hands were strong and warm, and his eyes were just as tender and they gazed sweetly into John’s. If Paul had been any other man then he would have stepped back and left the room. But there was something about Paul that made John want to sink into his essence, and become one with him. He wanted to know things about Paul that the other man wouldn’t tell anyone else. But most importantly, John wanted to obtain such information in an organic fashion as he couldn’t think of anything more satisfying or beautiful. Well, the way Paul’s hands squeezed his waist was starting to make known their own beauty. Paul’s wide hazel eyes roaming the pale expanse of John’s face also took John’s breath away. John’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he struggled to form a coherent thought or sentence.

“I…”

“Do I know you?”

John blinked, startled at the sudden question. “Wha- I…”

Paul removed his hands from John’s waist with one last squeeze, shaking his head. “Well- of  _ course _ I know you. You’re a top model, but...do I…”

John narrowed his eyes up at Paul, wrapping his arms around the cold spot that Paul’s retreating hands left on his sides. “Paul I- I don’t understand?”

“Wait!” Paul suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes brightening in a way that brought a grin to John’s face. “You went to Quarry Bank?”

It was John’s turn to widen his eyes, only he did so in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing red as he shrunk into himself. He managed a slight nod. 

“Yes...I did.”

Paul clasped his hands together and loudly whooped as he jumped back. “God I- you can’t hide that scouse accent from a  _ scouser! _ I knew you sounded familiar!”

John lifted a hand to shield the side of his face, only for realization to dawn on him as he looked at Paul’s face again. “Wait...wait I think I remember you, too.”

Paul’s excitement was instantly replaced with fear. He stopped hopping. “You do?”

“Yes.” John blinked rapidly as memories flooded his brain all at once. “Yes! Oh my god! Girls use to fuckin’ fight over who got to sit next to you on the bus, God- I remember  _ that. _ ” John giggled along with Paul. “I always thought you would grow up to be the model, not...not me.”

Paul’s eyes softened at John’s confession, his laughter fading away to leave a soft smile lingering at his lips. “Well...why not? You grew into your looks  _ very _ nicely.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Thanks….”

“Not-!” Paul waved his hands frantically and shook his head. “Not that you were bad lookin’ then it anything! It’s just… y’know, us awkward teenagers and all-“

“I know what you mean, Paul.” John chuckled.

“God…” Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “Especially George.”

John nodded. “I know! Christ, I miss it when he was shorter than me.

“Talk about a bloody glow up.”

John cackled in surprise, not expecting Paul to use such a term. He then stood up straight, a playful scowl on his face. “Ogling at my baby brother, have you?”

“No!” Paul said, more defensively than John expected. “God, no. Not  _ him.  _ He’s lovely ‘n all, but he’s not the one I’ve been lookin’ at.”

John gasped softly once he caught onto what Paul was saying. Paul blushed furiously when he realized what he let come out of his mouth. John had to look away. God, the interaction with Paul was going so smoothly. He anticipated flirting and leaving after having been fucked, not this. Not a fond trip down memory lane and enjoyable banter. John honestly didn’t think Paul would return the interest. Ever since John stepped into the sun room, Paul’s been staring at him-  _ through _ him. It was too much to handle but John found himself wanting more. He smiled up at Paul and giggled softly, reaching his hand up in an attempt to tuck a loose hair behind his ear. His breath was stolen when Paul’s warm hand reached out to correct the rebellious lock of auburn and tucked it into the rest of his hair. He must have been redder than a strawberry when Paul’s hand came around to cup his cheek. John swallowed a whimper.

“John…”

“I-I should go!” John stammered as he stumbled out of Paul’s warm hold. What was Paul going to say?? Why was John suddenly so bashful? What was so different about Paul that John couldn’t handle? If Paul had been any other man, then the two would have fucked right in the middle of the sun room, but John couldn’t stand being in the same vicinity as him any longer. He gave Paul one last glance when he stepped back. “Yeah, I...I have to call my agent!”

Paul’s hands awkwardly fell to his sides. “Oh...Okay, yeah- yeah! That’s fine!”

John slid away, his hand caressing his arm as he continued to stare at Paul. “Yeah…”

“I’ll see you around though. Yeah?”

“Of course! I- well, I do live here.”

“Yeah, yeah! That you do…”

John chuckled nervously as his back hit the exit. “Well, later,  _ Macca. _ ”

Paul turned back to his work with a grin. “See ya,  _ Johnny. _ ”

With that, John slinked out of the room with a smile. A really stupid smile. His face felt like it would split in two with how wide his lips stretched. His heart leapt and fluttered as he skipped up the stairs, ignoring the looks he received from George, who lounged on the couch. He was squealing by the time he reached his bedroom and collapsed into his bed. He hummed as he twisted and squeezed his duvet, thoughts of Paul’s smile running through his brain, the ghost of Paul’s hand still making his cheek tingle. 

“Yes!” John pumped his fist in the air. “ _ Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! _ ”

He was acting like a crushing teenager but he didn’t care. He liked Paul, and Paul liked him back. He didn’t just  _ like _ Paul either, he wanted Paul. And if John wasn’t mistaken, Paul wanted him too. As John came to realization about his newfound feelings for the hot gardener, his next mission flashed across his brain in bright red letters.

_ Fuck Paul McCartney as soon as possible.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Tumblr: femininehygieneproducts 
> 
> If you’d like to get to know me, I have a fun discord now!: https://discord.gg/PYfQs8V2


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